Behind Closed Doors
by Alley Cat Sunflower
Summary: In which Mercury and Emerald figure out the hard way that hotel-room doors are generally locked for a reason, are not spared the thought of Roman Torchwick procreating, and get their heads knocked together. T for suggestive themes and mild language. I do not own RWBY!


Leaning against the warehouse wall, Mercury flipped through the pages of his newest comic book one more time before finally losing patience and throwing it aside.

"She should be here by now," he grumbled, glancing sideways at Emerald. If he had to stand around in a suit for much longer, he was going to start blowing up random containers of Dust, just to see how big the explosions would be.

But Cinder probably wouldn't approve of his exhausting their supplies just for the hell of it, especially if she actually had a good reason for making them wait. To defy _her _meant certain death. Honk honk! All aboard the funeral ferry! Mercury definitely wasn't ready to accept his ticket just yet, even if turning it down _did _resign him to a life of boredom. (Waiting was the actual worst thing ever invented.)

Meanwhile, back in the real world, Emerald bit her lip, narrowing her crimson eyes. As she thought, Mercury looked her up and down appreciatively. _Damn_, she looked good in a skirt—though he had to admit, he did miss the exposed midriff and cleavage a little. He'd simply have to find other things to appreciate.

"Something must be wrong," she decided eventually, and Mercury averted his eyes as Emerald glanced back up at him. She hated it when she caught him checking her out, and dying at her hands would only be marginally more pleasant than burning to a crisp. "Cinder is _never _late."

Mercury sighed, folding his knee and leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. "She's probably just checking herself out in the mirror or something, making sure she looks good," he suggested. "I mean, she's not exactly school-age anymore. It might cause a little bit of a stir if no one believed she was a student, since, y'know, our plan does kind of depend on that."

Emerald rolled her eyes. "Cinder doesn't look _that _much older than us," she countered, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall.

"How old is she, then?" challenged Mercury, gazing down at Emerald. Without her usual high heels, she was even shorter than usual; the top of her head would barely graze his chin if they were as close together as he wanted them to be.

His question was apparently not worth an answer, because Emerald merely brushed past him wordlessly, sashaying towards the door (though Cinder still won the prize for 'sexiest walk' as far as Mercury was concerned). "Where are you going?" he frowned, taking a couple steps after her and almost slipping on his discarded comic book.

"To find Cinder," responded Emerald promptly, with nary a glance in his direction as he recovered himself.

Mercury shook his head, striding after her to catch up, and caught her wrist; she halted abruptly, staring up at him with a dangerous look in her eyes. "Look," he sighed. "Cinder told us to wait there, and we've already gotten in enough trouble lately for getting the puma out of the way."

Emerald snorted, yanking her wrist away from his grip and continuing through the maze of Dust crates towards the exit. The hotel wasn't that far away, after all—well within walking distance, especially for those accustomed to moving far and fast. (Thieves, in other words.) "How often are _you _the cautious one?" she asked, laughing in a single breath.

"Fair point," conceded Mercury, shrugging and pacing along beside her. Really, his trepidation had only been because of her warning after the Tukson incident. Dangerous adventures were the best adventures, after all. "But," he added, smirking, "when Cinder kills us for disobeying her orders _again_, I'm going to say I told you so."

"Hard to talk when you're dead," shot back Emerald, but she was smiling playfully as she said it. Mercury grinned in response; he loved it when she was in a good mood. It meant he might even get away with complimenting her for once. (Well, by 'compliment' he meant 'tell dirty jokes', but whatever. Same difference, right?)

Unfortunately, just as he came up with a really good one—and a punny one to boot, for double the entertainment value—they reached the hotel. Emerald pushed open the double doors like she owned the place, and Mercury was so focused on the way she moved up the stairs that he almost collided with her when she stopped in front of the door.

"Cinder?" asked Emerald, knocking in a beat of four after a slight hesitation. "Are you okay?"

Mercury rolled his eyes, leaning his elbow against the doorframe. "Did you seriously just ask if _Cinder Fall _was okay? She could burn Vale to the ground with her hands tied behind her back! Literally!"

"Shut up!" hissed Emerald, but had no further rebuttal to offer as she knocked once more. "Cinder?" she tried again, more worriedly, and Mercury sighed at her tone. He'd never understand why she was so concerned for someone so powerful. "We've been waiting for fifteen minutes. Is something wrong?"

Mercury's eyes slid to the room across the way, and a new plan occurred to him. "Why don't we ask Torchwick?" he suggested, but Emerald glared up at him fiercely enough that he almost took a step back.

"Why would _Torchwick _know where Cinder is?" she asked scornfully, crossing her arms and leaning on the other side of the doorframe. "She doesn't tell him anything! And she's right not to," she added as an afterthought, scowling. "The guy botches everything."

"Well, what do _you_ think we should do, O Almighty Emerald?" asked Mercury, holding his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender. "Believe me, I hate him as much as everyone sane does—but I don't want to hang around here in a suit any more than I want to hang around the warehouse in a suit."

"What do you have against suits?" frowned Emerald, looking him up and down appraisingly. "You look pretty good in one."

Mercury immediately decided he liked suits. "Never mind," he muttered, scuffing his foot against the carpet. "Now, are we gonna ask Torchwick, or do you have a better idea?"

Emerald stared at the ground for a good minute, and Mercury thought for sure she'd shoot down his idea just like all the others—but instead, she smiled and plucked a bobby pin out of her hair. "All right," she grinned. "Let's do some breaking and entering."

"That's more like it," responded Mercury, cracking his knuckles, and Emerald crossed the hall to Torchwick's room. He knew his role in this process all too well; he stood guard, looking both ways to cover her in case anyone wandered by and decided she was up to no good. (Of course, they'd be right, but they'd only be right for as long as they were alive, and Mercury was an expert at making sure that was a pretty short amount of time.)

"Got it," whispered Emerald triumphantly, and she pushed the door open quietly, taking a deep breath and opened her mouth. However, before she could yell at Torchwick, her eyes widened; the only sound escaping from her throat was a tiny, barely audible squeak. Mercury frowned, about to ask what was wrong, before he caught sight of the scene inside the room and immediately understood.

Cinder was in fact sitting on the desk, so that was one mystery solved—but most of her was obscured by Roman Torchwick.

Mercury had never really wanted to know what the redhead looked like without a shirt on, but the universe loved showing him stuff he never needed to see. He was just grateful that Torchwick was still wearing pants, because judging by the way things were going, he wouldn't be for much longer. His bowler hat was lopsided; an extinguished cigar lay forgotten on the floor beside them. From the position of his surprisingly muscular arms, Mercury suspected he was fumbling with the buttons on Cinder's blazer.

Meanwhile, her hands massaged Torchwick's shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin, and his face appeared to be nestled into her neck. And, most shockingly, she was _enjoying_ it—her eyes were closed, but Mercury could see fire flickering somewhat unnervingly under her eyelids. She always treated Torchwick so derisively; how could _this_ possibly have been going on behind the scenes…?

"Mercury," breathed Emerald, startling him; as he tore his eyes away from them with some degree of difficulty, he wondered if she had blinked at all within the last half minute or so. After all, she still stood staring fixedly at the same place, her eyes as wide as ever. "What do we do."

"Leave?" suggested Mercury in a whisper. "Even if this is kind of disgusting, interrupting it will probably get us killed. Slow roasted over an open fire. You know."

Emerald nodded slowly in agreement, but as she pulled the door gingerly back towards herself, the hinges creaked. The sound was quiet, and Mercury wouldn't have thought either of them would have heard it over the sound of their own heavy breathing and indistinct utterances—but Cinder's eyes shot open and Torchwick yelped as her fingernails dug into him, hard.

"_What _are you two _doing_?" she said, voice somewhere between a hiss and a growl as her eyes glowed, and Emerald let go of the doorknob as though it had burned her—for all Mercury knew, it had. "I told you to wait for me at the warehouse!" she added furiously, removing her arms from around Torchwick and leaving ten red crescent marks on his back.

While Emerald mouthed gibberish in an effort to recover herself enough to say something, Torchwick hid his face in his hand, muttering something under his breath that sounded like a complaint. By way of response, Cinder smiled cruelly and slapped him with no warning: he staggered, hat falling to the floor, and brought his hand up to his cheek.

"I asked you a question," said Cinder calmly, addressing Mercury and Emerald as she crossed her legs imperiously. Torchwick donned his hat again and straightened up, leaning against his desk and looking up at her—both frustration and hunger written all over his face.

"We were worried because you were late!" responded Emerald frantically, taking a few steps back out of the doorway. (Smirking, Mercury made a mental note that she was adorable when she was terrified.) "It was Mercury's idea!" she added hastily, turning to him, and as Cinder's smoldering gaze slid over to him, he glared over at Emerald.

"Emerald picked the lock!" retorted Mercury, just to even the score, and now there were _two_ sets of eyes on him, belonging to two decidedly dangerous ladies—Torchwick's stayed trained on Cinder's sharp features, half-apprehensive, half-transfixed.

"That was a _team_ effort, as usual," snapped Emerald, clenching her fists, but the action wasn't very threatening given her height (or rather, lack thereof). "You're just as guilty as I am!"

"Yeah? You were the one who wanted to leave to find Cinder in the first place! I _tried_ to warn you," growled Mercury, crossing his arms.

"Well, _you _think Cinder's plan is stupid, so why would I trust _your_ judgment?!" Emerald took a step forward, putting her face close to his with a challenge in her ruby eyes, and Mercury's lip twitched in the beginnings of a retaliatory snarl.

Torchwick rolled his eyes, turning his head away from them with a retching noise; Mercury and Emerald both glanced over at him, distracted. "Would you lovebirds spare us the drama and just kiss already?" he growled, crossing his bare arms. "You can cut the tension between you two with a knife, and I'll cut more than that if you don't _get the hell out_."

"Roman," sighed Cinder warningly, and he flinched, falling silent, as her attention shifted to Mercury and Emerald, both of whom shifted uncomfortably under her fiery stare. But she only shook her head slowly, a patronizing smile touching her lips.

"When will you _learn_," she said, sliding off the desk and walking towards the doorway at a leisurely pace (Torchwick's eyes following the movement of her skirt), "that following orders is the only way to ensure that no one gets hurt?"

Though Emerald seemed frozen in place, Mercury started backing up, realizing that their punishment was imminent—but too late. Cinder's hands shot out to cup the backs of their heads, entangling themselves in their hair. The two exchanged a glance before staring apprehensively at Cinder, who acknowledged their discomfort with a smile before bringing their heads towards one another at full speed.

Mercury's forehead crashed into Emerald's, his knees buckling under him as Cinder forced him to stoop to her level. The collision was a lot more forceful than he had anticipated as he fell to his knees, dazed; Torchwick's irrepressible laughter only made his head hurt more.

"…I think I have a concussion," groaned Emerald, swaying in place with a hand raised to her forehead, and Mercury nodded gingerly in agreement, wincing as his head throbbed with the motion.

"You'll just have to work through it," was Cinder's even response, as she turned away from them, and Torchwick grinned in the background. "I hope you two learned your lesson," she added, tossing the words over her shoulder. "Now, go back to the warehouse and wait like I told you to. I have some… _goodbyes_ to give."

And with that, the door slammed and locked once again, as though to pound one more nail into their aching heads.

There was a long and silent pause, save for the painful buzzing in both sets of ears. "I told you so," whispered Mercury eventually as Emerald sank to her knees next to him, and wished in the back of his mind that his angle had at the very least allowed him to see what was under that skirt before she sat down. But no, the world was cruel. Or maybe that was just Cinder.

"We need to get out of here," was Emerald's only, mumbled response as her eyes slipped shut exhaustedly. "We're _not_ going to want to hear what goes on in there when things really get going."

Mercury shuddered, pushing himself to his feet with a tremendous effort and holding out a hand to an oblivious Emerald. "No kidding," he muttered, waving his hand in front of her closed eyes. There was already a shortage of mind bleach for this evening without adding _that _to the mix.

"Come on," added Mercury impatiently, and her eyes finally opened; she examined his hand before taking it and allowing him to pull her gently to her feet, steadying her as she swayed in place. "You _said _we have to get out of here."

Emerald looked up at him dully, too out of it even to complain about his hand lingering on her waist. "We do," she agreed, stumbling towards the stairs. "Did she have to do that to us _before_ we got back to the warehouse? And why is she wasting time on that lowlife, anywaaaay—!"

Mercury grasped her wrist as she pitched forward, almost missing the first step of the staircase. "Careful," he murmured. "Your head's already broken. We don't want to break anything else before we even get to Beacon, do we?"

"_Who's_ got a broken head?" Emerald tried to snap, but her retort came out a weary sigh instead as she tottered downstairs, gripping the rail for dear life with Mercury right behind her, prepared to grab her around the waist if she tripped. (Or, you know, her equally grabbable chest. That would work too.)

As they exited the hotel, she was so unsteady on her feet that Mercury frowned at her thoughtfully before remembering the hard way how much it hurt to move his face. "Here," he decided, bending down carefully. "Climb on."

Emerald eyed him suspiciously before finally shrugging and clambering onto his back, draping her arms around his neck. Mercury smiled despite himself as he slipped his hands carefully under her thighs to support her. Yes, they were actually as smooth as they looked.

Of course, this wasn't the safest setup given that Mercury wasn't exactly in top condition himself, but he only almost tripped nine times before they turned into the warehouse parking lot—when he noticed in his peripheral vision that Emerald, leaning her chin on his shoulder, was smiling in a decidedly conscious way. Something occurred to him suddenly, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Am I just your horse now?" asked Mercury suspiciously, stopping in his tracks and glancing at Emerald out the corner of his eye, gritting his teeth as pain shot through his head once more. (He'd imagined Emerald riding him too many times to count, but he'd never really pictured _this_.)

"Heigh-ho, Silver, and away," responded Emerald sweetly, tightening her grip around his neck in something like an embrace, though the giggle accompanying her words was somewhat unfocused. It wasn't a _complete _act, then.

Mercury groaned, plodding reluctantly forward, pity victorious over annoyance. "I hate you."

"I can live with that," replied Emerald, and he rolled his eyes as they slipped through the back entrance into the warehouse. He paused, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the moonless interior, before walking forward again, automatially hoisting her weight farther up his back—and gave himself an idea.

"I'll drop you," he threatened, and loosened his hold suddenly, just to scare her—but was promptly almost choked for his trouble as Emerald's arms constricted his throat, legs wrapping around his chest.

"Or not," he amended, coughing, every spasm making him more and more lightheaded. Mercury staggered through the maze of crates, maybe-accidentally smacking Emerald into a couple of them as retribution for her suffocating him. (Though she protested somewhat sleepily, she didn't let go and walk on her own, and therefore deserved whatever happened to her, as far as he was concerned.)

It took at least three times longer than usual for him to navigate the sea of Dust crates, but eventually, by some miracle, they arrived at the agreed-upon meeting place mostly intact. "Okay, get off," groaned Mercury as he lurched through the doorway, but received no response: he realized that Emerald's breaths had become deeper and slower in his ear, and sighed heavily.

Kneeling, Mercury disentangled her arms from around his neck and laid her to rest against the wall. Her head lolled to the side at a dangerous angle, and Mercury hesitated before sitting next to her and arranging it on his shoulder. Emerald didn't even stir; he decided to follow her example, and closed his eyes.

As Mercury dropped off to sleep, exhaustion winning out over pain—though both had been caused by the same sudden action—his last thought was that if the beginning of this plan foretold how the rest of it would go… well, he probably wasn't long for this world.

All aboard the funeral ferry, indeed.

* * *

_First RWBY oneshot in a long time! I hope it turned out all right, given that I don't actually know a lot about these people. Thanks for reading!_


End file.
